The Bird Whisperer

I still remember that day I met Kimana Litonya, the dark haired Native-American girl who stole me away for a year. A year that changed my life forever.

It was the day of my Graduation Ceremony, and I was just tucking away the yearbook that had messages such as “Will miss you Ryan Petit!” and “Wish that your down-unders will forever remain petit” scrawled throughout the pages of memories. Yeah, Ryan Petit, that’s my name. Might as well be a death-trap for high school, where you have kids who haven’t even started their growth spurt sharing the same corridors as massive footballers who need to shave twice a day. Good thing I don’t live up to my name and I’ve managed to show the school that those tiny kids actually morph into giant footballers, rugby captain, and the head of the Hastings House. Everything was perfect.

But all of that was about to go as I step onto stage to receive my diploma. Four years of being in the prestigious football team. Three years of being elected Rugby captain, and the two fabulous years of ruling over Hastings. All my reputation gone… the second that Kimana Litonya appeared at my elbow. She snatched my diploma and ran off stage. Ignoring the laughs that echoed around the hall, I sped after her. Off the stage, out the door, and into the forest nearby.

I still remember chasing after her, watching her feet disappearing behind tree after tree. Running for my diploma… running away from the embarrassment that I would have to face if I didn’t return with what I set out to retrieve. Branches clawed at my arms, but I pressed on. I was the bloody rugby captain, for God’s sake, I can chase after a wiry girl like that.

But however confident I was in my speed and stamina, the chase went on. It had to be quite some time before I managed to close enough to her to grab her ankle.

“Tala!” she screamed, as I pulled her roughly down onto the undergrowth, leaves taking flight, “Kangee!”

Almost instantly, as if she was a witch casting a spell, a huge, brown wolf crashed out of the trees and straight at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the girl throw my diploma into the air, and into the claws of a black raven. I dropped onto my back as the wolf soared over the girl and onto my chest, baring its yellow teeth at me.

“Tala,” the girl ordered, picking herself up, “off.”

The giant wolf gave my chest a shove, in an obvious attempt to break my ribs, and leapt off with his hind legs, leaving my abdomen in agony. It prowled to the girl, who offered it a tiny chunk of meat that she fished out of God knows where. Then they both turned to me.

”Chosovi,” she demanded, her voice rippling through the forests, “Migina.”

I frowned and cautiously sat up, “English…?”

The girl thought for a minute, with the wolf panting at her side, licking its lips. “come.” And she turned around and began walking.

I had had enough. I wasn’t going to follow the girl to God knows where just to get a piece of paper back. So I got up and began to hurry back the way I came from. Then realised… I had no idea where I was.

“Stay,” the girl said, without even turning around, “then Kimana show you home.”

I grunted, and shook my head, “Declined,” I said, before walking into the dimly lit shrubbery. And, to my surprise, she let me go.

It wasn’t long before I was completely lost, passing the same, marked, tree over and over again. Before I knew it, it had been night, then morning, then noon. I had been out in the wild for a whole day without food. Yet I continued stumbling around the greenery, unshaven and stinking, hating myself for not being able to catch her. Hating her for being such a weird bitch.

Yes, I still remembered noticing little marks on trees that I didn’t make. They were mostly arrows, and when I followed them, strangely enough, I’d nearly always stumble upon an apple tree or stream or even a basket of fruit sitting in a leafy clearing. One day, the arrows led me to a pond, and beside it laid a small fruit knife. I couldn’t believe how much I missed shaving.

Gradually, over time, the leaves began to change colour, displaying a beautiful array of warm reds to golden shafts of yellow. The forest canopy began to thin as layers of leaves were stripped off their branches. I began to see the sky more, little pieces of blue heaven peeking in through the orange blanket. Occasionally, I’d hear a collection of birdsong, and I would just lay against a tree with my eyes closed, enjoying the smell and sounds of the forest and the warm autumn breeze.

It was a problem when winter came around though. I had been wearing the same graduation gown from so many moons ago, and only a simple T-shirt with jeans underneath. The sky was no longer blue, but almost always a gloomy grey. I rarely saw the sun anymore. When I looked up, I’d only see withered brown leaves clinging desperately to their branches, a dull painting against a plain backdrop. I honestly didn’t know if I was going to survive out there. The arrows stopped appearing, the stream and pond froze, and the birdsong died away. I was left, alone, huddled against a dry tree-trunk, wrapped within my black gown.

Then it came to the point when I couldn’t feel my own fingers or toes anymore, I couldn’t shiver anymore because I had no energy. I wouldn’t sleep, in case I couldn’t wake up. I thought I was going to die for sure. I remember thinking, How did I get into this stupid situation? Why didn’t I follow the girl? I can’t believe I let my egotism get in the way… Is that who I really am? A fool who’s obsessively full of himself?. I still remember praying non-stop to the bleak, dreary sky, unable to say any words because my jaw was clenched from the cold. Was God listening?

Well, it seemed so. I must’ve fallen asleep, or fainted, despite my urge not to, because I remember waking up in some sort of tent, lying next to a crackling fire. I could vaguely detect a waver of burnt meat, and a hint of birdsong. I actually thought I had died and gone to heaven.

“Chosovi,” said a voice I hadn’t heard for half a year, “Migina. Onawa? Ahh?”

I sensed the smell of burning meat approach my mouth, and gingerly parted my lips. Taking the lump onto my tongue, I began to chew.

“Sitala?” she asked, as she brought another piece of half-burnt, half-raw meat to my lips, “Alaqua?”

It sounded like she was asking if it appealed to me, so I nodded, and in came another piece. It was so long since I’ve eaten meat, so being both burnt and raw didn’t really matter to me. I just received lump after lump until I felt energized enough to sit up.

“Kimana,” I said whilst watching her. She paused at what she was doing to look at me with those dark brown eyes of hers, “that... is your name, isn’t it?”

“Ah,” she said quietly, before getting up and walking to what looked like a solitary stone basin, “Kimana Litonya.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, shuffling closer to the fire, “for helping me. You know… the directions, arrows, fruits.”

“Ah,” she repeated, returning to my side, carrying a bowl of water, “Amadahy,” she said, offering me the bowl.

“And for saving me,” I pressed on, touching the bowl, and accidentally, her hand. She looked away and gently eased her hand from under mine.

“Ah,” she said for the third time, getting up, “come.”

Then, she took me into this cabin filled with exotic birds I have never seen close up before. Blues and Greens, Reds and Yellows, all mixed up in the same room.

“Chilaili, Chimalis,” Kimana whispered, gesturing at a blue-white peacock-shaped bird sitting with a sapphire blue, “snow bird, blue bird.”

“So many,” I smiled, breathing the words out, gazing around in wonder.

“Mochni?” she sang, her voice echoing like a nightingales, “Lokni maska, Mochni, Payatt.”

A giant phoenix-like bird swooped down upon us, it’s blue feathery wings glinting from the fire next door. For a while, I just stood there watching Kimana singing to this bird, and the bird singing back.

“Kimana…” I mumbled, “You sing?”

She looked startled at first, as if she didn’t remember that I was there. She looked away, blushing, and said the usual, “Ah.”

“So many birds,” I mused, teetering around, “and they all love you.”

“I talk to them,” Kimana whispered, stroking the blue phoenix’s wings, “they talk to me.”

“Ah,” I breathed, “you’re a bird whisperer.”

She nodded, “go outside,” she suggested, “Mochni go outside.”

“Outside?” I pondered, “It’s going to be too cold, it’s winter. The lake’s frozen-”

“No,” she interjected, her brow creasing “not winter, not cold. Spring. You asleep for winter.”

“I hibernated…?” I asked in disbelief.

“Me too,” Kimana shrugged, taking the bird on her finger and heading out, “when snow melt. Spring come.”

And she was right. What I remembered was a forest of grey branches was now a sea of brown and green. Flowers everywhere made pops of red and yellow, contrasting beautifully with the undergrowth. I remember the moment she released the hibernating birds back into the wild. How the seemingly morbid nest of birds would burst into life and spread across the air, filling the skies with an unimaginable spectrum.

I could see Kimana surrounded by her avian friends, her face glowing with laughter and enjoyment. A distant sound of thudding came, as the familiar brown wolf bounded into sight, leaping onto the girl like a dog to its long lost owner.

And a caw. I look up to see a black raven soaring it’s way to me, and in it’s claws, a white, red-ribbon-tied diploma. My diploma. He dropped it into my hands, and I turned to face Kimana. She was smiling, her eyes warm.

“Go,” she smiled, pointing behind me, “home.”

I turned around, and saw the familiar path that I first took while chasing her into the forest. The familiar block that I recognised as my school. My old high school. I felt a huge burst of relief, and I turned around to thank her for everything she’s done…

But she’s gone. The birds, the wolf… everything. My entire GAP year spent in a forest. A whole year gone, just like that. And Kimana Litonya was gone. Like a dream… only… it wasn’t…

Now, 20 years later. I’m sitting on the backyard porch, listening to the nearby birdsong, strumming away on a guitar.

That’s my little boy, Kieran, over there. That one, the little toddler in blue. Can’t you see him? The one sitting on the grass, singing to the little blue bird perched on his little finger.